


i’ll only hurt you if you let me

by darklips_paleface



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Bad mental state for both, Dark fic, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Yikes, for real this is a lot, no happy ending, s2, woof - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:47:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklips_paleface/pseuds/darklips_paleface
Summary: Oswald knew the definition of Stockholm syndrome. Falling in love with your captor, begging to remain kidnapped and hidden away from any world but theirs. And this was certainly that.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	i’ll only hurt you if you let me

**Author's Note:**

> idk what to even say abt this one lol,,, the idea just kinda struck me that like “hey what abt a stockholm syndrome fic for s2 nygmobs” and then my fucked up brain was like “OR it could also be a lima syndrome thing too!!!” bc i guess THAT wasn’t bad enough on its own so like,, here we are. sorry abt this. what a fuckin fic to return w, huh?
> 
> head the tags, not sure if i need to add anything else. i wouldn’t consider this dub con but like sex happens and they’re both very fucked up sooo,,, know that

There was a name for this, Oswald knew that. Couldn’t for the life of him remember where he’d first heard it- maybe as a joke from one of Fish’s men discussing his crazy ex-girlfriend, maybe in passing by some psychologist or other he’d been sent to kill- didn’t matter. Whatever the context; Oswald knew the definition of Stockholm syndrome. Falling in love with your captor, begging to remain kidnapped and hidden away from any world but theirs. 

It was usually achieved with a mixture of both violence and affection, but most important was cutting your victim off from the outside world, making them believe there didn’t exist a universe for them anymore that didn’t contain you. And though Edward had failed to show any violence; the latter of those two offenses, well…

Oswald had healed weeks ago.

For a moment there, he’d even thought he was going to be released. That Edward had felt thoroughly mentored after their session with Mr. Leonard, viewed him as more of a friend than a teacher now, and that he would allow Oswald to leave so that he could finally take out Galavan and avenge his mother. He thought Edward cared about his plans, his aspirations. How foolish he’d been. 

Once Ed realized that Oswald was preparing to leave, he began drugging him again. Just long enough to keep him out while he continued to break his back for the GCPD, and nothing stronger than a Benadryl, but the message was clear. Oswald was a prisoner, and Ed was not finished with him. 

Oswald’s first assumption was that Ed simply wasn’t yet confident in his killing, that he wanted more guidance as he made his way awkwardly into Gotham’s underworld. But that didn’t seem right- was so boldly contradicted by the way Edward had beamed at him, proud and cocky, blood splattered across his cheek, before landing the finishing blow. Ed had taken control that night, doing most of the torture himself. Anyone could see that he didn’t need Oswald’s guidance, even Ed himself would have to be insane to believe he needed  _ help  _ becoming a murderer. 

But, then again; it was becoming rather apparent that Edward was, in all likelihood, insane. 

Oswald wanted to believe, though, that maybe his newfound friend and caretaker was just a bit self-conscious. Shy in his own abilities. So he insisted they get another lackey, another practice. Ed hadn’t even wanted to find the man- said he felt that Oswald had given him a thorough enough lesson the last time, and that he was a quick study. But he had, and just as before, Ed proved he was terrifying enough on his own without Oswald’s help.

Oswald spent the whole night watching quietly as Edward dismembered the nobody, working up the nerve to ask the question that had been burning inside of him since the first moment he’d woken up in Ed’s bed. His best opportunity came as Ed began the cleanup, quietly humming to himself. He was in a good mood, now was the safest time for Oswald to ask. He had to. Had to at least  _ try _ to escape, no matter how futile it felt.

“Edward, why am I here?”

Ed stopped, spine snapping as he stood abruptly, still facing away from Oswald. “I told you, silly,” it was obvious that he was trying to sound sweet, but the sentiment came out tense and forced, “you’re here to heal. And to mentor me.”

Oswald had to be especially careful now, present sugar-coated evidence so as not to set Ed off. He now knew just how terrifying the man could become in a split second, and Oswald would not let himself die from something so stupid as underestimation. “But I’m healed, Ed. You healed me. And I’m eternally grateful to you for it, really,” it felt foolish to place his hand over his heart in earnest when Ed wasn’t even looking at him, but Oswald did it just the same, “but I can take care of myself now. And, well- as far as mentoring goes, you’ve proven that you don’t need my instructions as far as the actual torture and murder go. The only thing I could teach you now is how to rise in Gotham’s underworld, except, well…”

At that, Ed slowly turned to face him, just exactly like Oswald knew he would.

“I can’t really do that from your apartment, now, can I? I have to go, take down Galavan and rebuild my army.” Ed’s expression was turning, almost so subtly as to go unnoticed. But Oswald had been sharing a bed with the man, entirely platonically and completely clothed- but still. He knew Edward’s face better than his own, knew that the miniscule furrowing of his eyebrows and the twitch forming at the corner of his mouth meant that Oswald had mere seconds before the other man lost control, became an unknown and terrifying variable. “Which I could show you how to do!” He shuffled forward, just close enough to lay a pacifying hand on Ed’s forearm, but not so close as to put himself in any real danger. “I could bring you with me, Eddie, show you how to  _ really _ put your talents to use. You’re wasting away at the GCPD, going unnoticed and unappreciated. But by my side? You could be  _ fearsome.  _ Have anything you ever wanted,  _ take  _ it from anyone who dare question you. You could know what  _ real _ power means. But only if you let me go… If we leave this place and build an empire on our own.”

Oswald knew it was a good pitch, would win over any sane man. Held his breath, knowing that whatever Ed said next would be the answer he was really looking for. This was a test:  _ was _ Ed a sane man? Or was Oswald really and truly trapped, caught in a spider’s web that even he may not be able to untangle.

Edward smiled, mouth full of teeth  _ too  _ white and  _ too  _ sharp. “But I already have all that, right here. Everything I could ever want, complete control…” He advanced, claiming Oswald’s personal space as if it were his own, to lay a calculated hand on Oswald’s cheek. “The most powerful man in Gotham under my thumb. Why would I ever want to risk losing that?” Ed didn’t look at him as though he were the one in control, though. He looked at Oswald as if he were a  _ god _ , some unknown deity deserving of his devout worship. As if  _ Oswald  _ were the one keeping  _ Ed _ here, and he was simply pleased to be of service to this wonderful creature before him.

And maybe he was. Maybe Ed was just as wrapped up in this horrible conundrum as he was. He knew there was a counter syndrome, couldn’t recall its name, but that didn’t really matter. What mattered was that they had done this to  _ each other.  _ The blame had to be shared.

Looking back, Oswald can see clearly that that was the moment his psyche had truly fractured: when he started taking responsibility for his role in all of this.

But they were happy, weren’t they? Ed left in the mornings, usually not even bothering with mixing the pills into Oswald’s breakfast anymore. He would simply leave the small pile on the nightstand by Oswald’s head, a choice mocking him for the decision Oswald would continue to make each day. It was easier that way; blacking out into peaceful nothingness rather than face the torment his own mind supplied each time he had the chance to leave but couldn’t. Oh, he’d tried. Oswald was still a fighter, after all. But the doorknob felt like a hot iron in his grasp, and though he wanted to so desperately believe that maybe Edward had rigged it somehow, he knew the truth. He  _ couldn’t  _ leave. Probably would make it a mere block before he collapsed on the streets, poisoned by the very air around him because it lacked any trace of Ed. This was his world now, best not to torture himself with hyotheticals or schemes or self-hatred over how weak he’d become. Edward woke him up when he got home, a small shake of the shoulders to signal their dinner was ready. He would tell Oswald about his day, and listen to Oswald describe all the new ways he had concocted for how best to kill Galavan. It was a good fantasy to cling to, kept him from wallowing in his lack of purpose or vocation. And Ed was sweet for allowing him to keep it, even though they both knew it was far more likely that Galavan would die of old age than by Oswald’s hand. After supper, they would retire to the couch, where they would watch old reruns on Ed’s television until neither of them could stifle their yawning any longer. Then it was a practiced dance of alternating showers and teeth brushing, before falling into bed together. 

That, at the very least,  _ had _ changed, eventually.

Oswald still didn’t know what had compelled him to do it, only that in the moment it had felt right. He’d never been very good with self-control, now so even less- something catching his interest was a novelty these days, so acting on it immediately became vital to his continued survival.

They were sitting on the couch together, Oswald curled up in the crook of Edward’s arms, when it struck Oswald just how domestic they must look to anyone on the outside, any passerby would naturally assume them to be together. Cuddling on a couch like an old married couple- and they’d never even so much as kissed.  _ Why hadn’t they kissed yet? That was ridiculous.  _ So Oswald had leaned up and placed a soft, chaste kiss upon Ed’s lips.

The sound Edward made in response was nothing short of adorable. It was half shock, half confusion, and it made Oswald giggle like a school boy. 

“Wh-what was that?”

“A thimble.” Oswald replied, sarcasm coating his words.

“I mean,” Ed sighed, exasperated, “ _ why _ did you- what made you- wh-”

Oswald silenced Ed with another kiss, impatient and lacking a real answer to the question before him. That, at least, seemed good enough for Ed; who enthusiastically began kissing Oswald back. It was almost comical, the fact that they were sitting there on Ed’s couch making out like a pair of horny teenagers, like anything between them could ever possibly be simple or uncomplicated. But Oswald tuned out the voice in the back of his head telling him that this was a horrible idea, instead focusing on the gentle and reverent press of lips. 

Eventually, they composed themselves enough to move to the bed, where Ed immediately put a halt to their so far entirely PG liaising. Oswald tried to reach for him once more, move this from something that could easily be brushed off into something with a bit more repercussions, but Edward stopped him by taking Oswald’s hand in his own and placing it firmly back on the bed beside them.

“Oswald, stop. This isn’t- this can’t be-” Ed interrupted himself, sighing deeply. Oswald allowed him the time to collect his thoughts, sensing the importance of Ed’s words before they’d even arrived. “We can’t do this if it isn’t anything to you. If you’re just doing this because you’re lonely…” And so much was left unsaid there. The fact that if Oswald  _ was  _ just lonely, that would be entirely Ed’s fault. That Ed did not readily supply an alternate solution, because there was none. They only had each other, that was their whole world now. Oswald’s days of numerous casual affairs with nameless, faceless men were over and gone. There could be no one but Ed now.

“Look at me, Edward.” He turned Ed’s jaw, palm lightly cupping the sharp jut of his chin, to force eye contact. It was the only way they could both be sure the other was being sincere. “I don’t know what it says about me, that I’ve fallen in love with you-” Ed’s eyes widened, breath coming in a sharp gasp that Oswald could feel beneath his finger tips, “-but I have. There’s never going to be anyone else for me, not even when or if we do ever leave home.” Ed’s eyes were rapidly filling with tears, and Oswald couldn’t tell if it was because he’d referred to this place as a  _ home  _ rather than a  _ prison  _ for the first time ever, or perhaps it was his quiet acceptance that he may never leave.

Then again, most likely it was the ‘love’ bit. Ed was  _ such _ a softie when it came to romantic declarations.

“I love you, too, Oswald.” He said softly, as if they both didn’t already know that. As if it weren’t obvious to both of them, now, that it was that love that landed them here in the first place. That love which had torn Oswald’s world down, only to rebuild it before his eyes. It hadn't come back as grand or as filled with potential as Oswald’s life had once been- was instead rather twisted and broken and depressing. But some life was better than no life, so he remained grateful. And how could he place blame on something that brought him such joy? He loved Edward, and Edward loved him back. That was enough, no need for reflections that threatened to topple their already unsteady predicament. 

Finally, Edward allowed Oswald to wrap his arms around him once more. In fact, he allowed so much more than just that, that night. And for all that Oswald had felt tethered to this man before then, hopelessly bound to a captor too enamored to ever release him, it wasn’t until they joined together that night that Oswald truly knew what it meant to be connected to another person. They had destroyed each other’s sanity, had carved their way into one another's minds like a parasite burrowing deep into it’s hosts’ brain. Had ensured that neither could ever function as a whole being without the other around, and that truth was solidified that night. Ed was right in stopping Oswald before they’d begun, the simple act of making love had made their situation more permanent and insidiously unbreakable than any act of hate or violence ever could. It was wise of him to ask that the decision be made with care, but in the end it wouldn’t have mattered; they were always going to end up here, one way or another. 

And maybe it truly was just another sign that Oswald was lost beyond the possibility of salvation, but he was thankful for that. Was glad that no matter what, they were seemingly linked to each other through fate or destiny or whatever it was in Ed’s twisted mind that had made him keep Oswald in the first place. Oswald called it love, though he knew it wasn’t. Sometimes, though, living with a lie was the safest option.

**Author's Note:**

> how r u all im great listening to a lot of billie (title is from “when the party’s over”)


End file.
